


In Which Sakura Very Briefly Travels Through Time

by Misfit_McCoward



Category: Naruto
Genre: Awkward Crush, F/F, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misfit_McCoward/pseuds/Misfit_McCoward
Summary: On day four of being a genin, Sakura accidentally travels forward through time and into Ino's apartment.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino
Comments: 21
Kudos: 282





	In Which Sakura Very Briefly Travels Through Time

**Author's Note:**

> Years ago, I read a fic where genin Sakura traveled to the Boruto era and my take-away thought was, "It's good she didn't meet adult Ino, otherwise she'd instantly have a gay awakening."
> 
> So then I wrote this. 
> 
> Sakura is twelve in this and very obviously (and awkwardly) attracted to/crushing on adult Ino. If a child having a crush on an adult squicks you, I suggest skipping this one.

Sakura has been a genin for a grand total of four days, and all she’s learned so far is that Naruto is somehow even stupider than she thought. 

“You have to put it back,” she scolds him. Kakashi-sensei is, of course, nowhere to be found. “Forbidden scrolls are forbidden for a _reason,_ Naruto!”

She turns to Sasuke, looking for back-up. Sasuke is so smart and cool, surely he’ll make Naruto take the scroll back to wherever he got it. 

Sasuke is watching Naruto not with disdain or reproach, like Sakura thought he would. His pretty eyes are fixed on Naruto’s hand, waving the scroll around while he yells about how Sakura is going to be _so impressed_ with the super cool jutsu. There’s a tiny little furrow between Sasuke’s brows, like he’s thinking. 

“Sasuke-kun?” Sakura prompts. “Don’t you think Naruto should give the scroll back? It could be dangerous!”

Sasuke doesn’t even look at her. His gaze stays fixed on Naruto and he says, “Whatever. I bet it’s a fake, anyway.”

“Excuse me!” Naruto yells back, because Naruto doesn’t talk at normal volumes. “This is a totally legit scroll! The salesman said it’s from Lightning--”

“Sure, the entirely honest salesman, selling totally real ninja scrolls,” Sasuke says, smirking. “Dead-last.”

Naruto screams and lunges at Sasuke, scroll still in hand. Sakura watches, helpless for a few minutes while they wrestle-- she doesn’t understand _why_ all the boys at the Academy were so into this. Then she remembers Kakashi-sensei warned them not to fight each other without his supervision, and she goes to intervene, fists waving at Naruto’s dumb head. 

Somehow, the scroll comes undone, there’s a lot of light, and then Sakura is standing in someone’s living room. 

Sakura loses her balance and falls head first into a coffee table, having been in the middle of trying to put Naruto in a headlock. Her forehead clunks against the wood, and there’s the sounds of laminated paper being dumped to the floor. 

Sakura stands, feeling wobbly, and blinks away spots. She has never been in this living room in her life. She’s knocked fashion magazines all over the floor. 

“Sakura?” a voice calls from another room. “Is that you? Did you forget something?”

A woman walks into the room. She has her head tilted slightly to the side, in the middle of putting in a stud earring. A curtain of blonde hair goes all the way down to her knees. 

This woman knows Sakura’s name, and yet Sakura has no idea who she is.

The woman blinks at Sakura for half a moment, looking deeply confused. Sakura opens her mouth to apologize for intruding, but then the woman suddenly squeals in delight and rushes over to her. 

“Sakura!” she cries. “You are so _cute!”_

The woman bends over in front of Sakura, so that they’re eye level. She’s wearing a shirt that shows off her entire midriff, plus a long skirt that rests scandalously low on her hips. Sakura wants to hold the revealing outfit against her, but if _Sakura_ had a figure that good, she’d show it off too. 

Sakura finds herself embarrassingly mesmerized by the curve of the woman’s bare hip bone under smooth, unblemished skin… right up until the woman literally pinches Sakura’s cheeks. 

“I forgot how _boney_ you were,” the woman coos, tugging at Sakura’s cheeks. “Aw, and your _hair--”_

The woman moves a hand to run it through Sakura’s hair, and Sakura bats it away, stepping back. 

The woman straightens up, putting both hands on her _very_ generous hips and pouting down at Sakura. Her lipstick is the perfect shade to bring out the natural blush of her cheeks and the blue-green of her eyes. She sticks out her bottom lip, the exact way Ino-pig does whenever she’s trying to show off how full her lips are for Sasuke, and--

Sakura suddenly feels dizzy. 

“Too much?” the woman asks. Her tone is more reserved now, less ridiculous. She starts looking Sakura up and down critically, and Sakura suddenly feels very self-conscious of how boney and weirdly proportioned and ugly she is. 

“Am I…” Sakura starts, mouth suddenly dry, “...in the Yamanaka compound?”

The woman clicks her tongue. “You’re _bleeding.”_

Sakura’s head is certainly throbbing. She runs a hand over her forehead and her fingers come back with a slick of blood. 

“Come on, I’ll get you fixed up,” the woman says, and places both hands on Sakura’s shoulders and starts guiding her further into the home. There’s a wedding band on one finger, Sakura notes. The woman’s nails have a perfect manicure, except for one finger that has a flesh-colored band-aid wrapped around the tip. Sakura supposes even supermodels can’t be perfect. 

“I should go back to my team,” Sakura says as she’s steered into a bathroom. “My sensei can--”

“I’m a medic,” the woman interrupts, a teasing smile at her lips. “It’ll be no trouble at all.”

The bathroom is clean but cramped with two people in it. Sakura feels boxed in by this strange woman: the woman is wearing a familiar-smelling perfume, the scent heavy in the closed-in space, and her ridiculous long hair tickles Sakura’s bare arms. 

Sakura has no idea how she’s getting all that length and volume. While the woman runs the sink and waits for the water to warm, Sakura scans the bathroom for any hair products left out as a clue as how to get her hair to do that. All she sees are that the shampoo and conditioner set in the shower are the same brand she already uses. 

The woman wraps a hand around Sakura’s chin and tips her head back. Sakura blinks up into her face as the woman dabs a damp washcloth to her forehead. She has thick, long lashes, just like dumb Ino is always bragging about, although unlike Ino, _this_ woman’s eyeliner is perfectly even. 

“Uh,” says Sakura when the woman finally lets go of her face. She turns to the medicine cabinet, pulling out a bag of cotton balls and an antiseptic. Sakura feels dizzy, even though she didn’t hit her head _that_ bad. “Where am I, and um… who…”

The woman raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as she picks a cotton ball out of the bag with a pair of tweezers. 

“Who are you?” Sakura squeaks out. 

“You mean you haven’t figured it out yet?” the woman says as she pours antiseptic onto her cotton ball. There’s a definite tease to her voice that makes Sakura’s stomach do weird things. She takes Sakura’s chin in her hand again. 

“Figured out it...?” Sakura repeats, and she tries not to wince when the woman dabs cold antiseptic onto her forehead. 

“It’s _me,_ obviously,” the woman says, smirking down at Sakura like she's a cat who’s caught an especially fat mouse. “Who else would tend to your giant, massive, planetary-sized _forehead?”_

Sakura backs up so violently she trips right over the toilet. The only thing that saves her from completely falling backwards and smacking her head on the wall is that woman grabs her by the elbows and pulls her back up. 

“I– INO?!” Sakura screeches, and then backs up hurriedly in a different direction and ends up standing in the bathtub, back pressed against the wall. 

Ino is cackling so hard she’d doubled-over, and Sakura can’t help but notice in a pang of jealousy how beautiful her hair sways around her face and waist, even as she’s all red and ugly from guffawing at Sakura. 

“What–” Sakura starts, fuming. What kind of a prank was this? “Is that a henge, Ino-pig?” Sakura jeers. “Awful vain of you to think a little piglet could grow up that beautiful.”

“O-oh, sorry, I’m just,” Ino replies, like Sakura’s words don’t affect her. She wipes tears from her eyes, and her make-up doesn’t even smudge. It must be that expensive kunoichi brand all the girls at the Academy were always drooling over. “I couldn’t help it! You’re just so adorable!”

Sakura can feel her face go all red in anger, and she wishes it wouldn’t, because anger makes her face all blotchy and she will _not_ look ugly in front of Ino. 

Ino finally gets a hold of herself and sits down on the lid of the toilet bowl, eyeing Sakura with an odd sort of indulgence. 

“Sorry, Forehead,” she says, and Sakura cannot believe she didn’t immediately recognize her. “This isn’t a henge. You travelled through time.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Sakura snaps back immediately. 

“Oh, Forehead, you know I’d come up with a better story than _time-travel,”_ Ino answers, flipping hair over her shoulder and smirking just like one of those sexy ladies in magazines. Sakura can feel her heart speeding up. “It sounds fake, but it’s true.”

Ino crosses her leg and clasps her hands on the knee. Sakura’s Ino used to do that all the time in class, to show off her legs and try to make her boobs look bigger. 

_She doesn’t even_ need _to make them look bigger,_ Sakura thinks, eyeing Ino’s chest with contempt. 

“It’s a weird story you told me a couple years ago, to warn me,” Ino continues, and Sakura forces her eyes back up to her face. “I didn’t really believe it, but here we are!”

Ino smiles at Sakura, and it’s the smile Ino used to give Sakura, back when they were still friends. Like Sakura was important and meant something to Ino. Like Ino was excited to hear what Sakura had to say. It tugs at Sakura’s heartstrings and makes her feel all weird and guilty. 

She decides instead to go back to looking at Ino’s boobs, all big and squished together between her perfectly toned upper arms. 

_It’s really not fair,_ Sakura thinks. 

“So how do I get back?” Sakura asks. 

“Hmm, you said it just happened automatically,” Ino replies. “You didn’t remember exactly how long it took, though. Maybe an hour.”

“So…” Sakura’s gaze drifts back up to Ino’s face, and she’s still smiling at her like Sakura’s the best thing in the world. “...what do we do?”

“Weeeell...” Ino says, and makes a big show of gathering all her hair over one shoulder and raking her fingers through it while she thinks. 

Sakura is suddenly struck with an all-encompassing envy as she watches Ino preen herself. Ino was _always_ better than Sakura at everything-- at fighting, at ninjutsu, at making friends, at make-up and flirting-- always prettier, always more popular, always the favorite. And now as an adult, she gets to look like _the most beautiful woman alive?_

Sakura bets Ino even has a hotter and richer and more successful husband than Sakura!

It’s a good thing Ino’s hair was now covering up her stupid perfect boobs, Sakura thinks, because if she had to look at them some more, she’d try and punch one. 

Except now Sakura can see the arch of Ino’s back, the way her waist curves out into the swell of her hips, and Sakura’s insides feel all weird again--

“Sakura, are you okay?” Ino asks. She sounds genuinely concerned. Sakura hates her. 

“I’m fine,” Sakura mutters, and prays her face isn’t as red and gross as it feels. “I’ll just go wait at a tea shop or something.”

She steps out of the bathtub. Ino puts a hand on her shoulder. 

“Wait,” Ino says. Her voice is soft, soothing. “It’s probably better if you don’t learn too much about the future. Besides, you’re bleeding again.”

Ino is… probably right. Sakura’s never read any official policies on what to do in the case of accidental time travel, but running around too much is always a bad idea in the movies. She lets Ino spin her back around to face her. 

“I thought you were a medic,” Sakura says as Ino wipes blood off her face with the same washcloth. Even shallow wounds to the head can bleed a lot, Sakura remembers reading. “Can’t you just use healing chakra?” Then, because she can’t help it, she adds in her meanest voice, “Or are you just not very good?”

Instead of rising to the bait, Ino just huffs out a laugh as she wets a new cotton ball with antiseptic. 

“Adorable,” Ino says, leaning over Sakura again and rubbing antiseptic onto her cut. “I diagnose you as adorable, Forehead.”

Ino leans back, as if admiring her work, and Sakura scowls back at her. Ino giggles and bends over, pecking Sakura on the forehead, and her lips are warm with chakra. 

“INO!” Sakura yelps, shuffling back and slapping her hand over the warm spot on her forehead. She can’t tell if it’s hot from the healing chakra, or from Sakura’s knowledge that Ino _kissed_ her there. 

Ino laughs at her. 

“Come on,” Ino says, pulling at Sakura’s arm. Sakura’s skin feels extra hot where Ino touches her. “I have _got_ to play with that hair before you disappear.”

Ino has her sit on the edge of the tub while Ino sits on the lid of the toilet, and Sakura pretends that Ino’s nails against her scalp isn’t the best feeling in the world. 

“What about a fishtail braid?” Ino offers, voice all gentle and soft. It makes Sakura fidget. “Like we used to do?”

There had been a brief, wonderful time, when Ino and Sakura were both growing their hair out but hadn’t told the other _why_ yet. They’d stolen magazines from Ino’s cousins and tried all sorts of fancy hair plaits between classes. 

“Okay,” Sakura says after some hesitation. 

Ino works carefully, and Sakura enjoys the feel of her hair being played with. Ino was always more gentle than Sakura’s mom, who yanked and yanked and then complained Sakura’s hair didn’t hold whatever style. 

Sakura misses Ino. 

Then, she suddenly recognizes Ino’s perfume. 

“Did you _steal_ my signature scent, Pig?” Sakura snaps.

“You signature scent?” Ino repeats, and there’s mirth in her voice. 

“It’s my favorite one,” Sakura powers on, glad Ino can’t see how hot her face is. Sakura’s mom would never let her buy adult perfume. She got mad whenever Sakura stopped by the store to spray samples on herself. “You know I was going to make it my signature scent when I was old enough.”

Ino snorts. “I’ll have you know,” she says snootily. _“You_ gave it to me.”

Sakura doesn’t have a counter argument to that. 

“Oh,” she says. Ino goes back to braiding, and after a few moments of hesitation, Sakura asks, “So are we friends again?”

“Something like that,” Ino says, and there’s a knowing tease in her voice. 

If they’re friends again, though, that must mean either one of them stopped liking Sasuke, or one of them _won_ and the other conceded. There was no way either Ino or Sakura would ever just give up, so one of them must have won Sasuke!

Sakura knows she shouldn’t ask, since they decided she shouldn’t know too much about the future. But she _has_ to know. She has to know how and when, because being friends again with Ino sounds… well, it sounds kind of nice. 

“So,” Sakura says nervously. “Who won?”

“What do you mean?” Ino asks, followed by, “Do you have a hair tie on you?”

Sakura shakes her head, and Ino hands her the end of the braid to hold in place while she gets up to rummage through the medicine cabinet for a tie. Sakura watches her hips sway as she moves.

“Our rivalry in romance,” Sakura clarifies. “Who won?”

Ino pauses in her rummaging, peering down at Sakura. Sakura blinks back up at her. Ino smirks. 

“Spoilers,” Ino teases, and then finally finds a tie. 

“Can’t you tell me anything?” Sakura presses. 

“Hmm,” Ino answers, sitting back down on the toilet lid. “Let me think. What did we used to compete over…?”

Ino drops Sakura’s now tied braid, and Sakura turns around on the bathtub edge to face her. Ino taps her bottom lip like she’s thinking very hard. Then she crosses her arms under her boobs, and Sakura wonders if it would be rude to tell Ino she really needs to stop doing that, as if they _need_ any help getting attention. 

_”Your_ partner,” Ino starts, “is very successful. Well-known in the village. Well-liked, too. Also _super_ hot, I gotta say. Like, wow, you’re not gonna _believe_ how hot your partner is.”

Sakura perks up. That sounds just like Sasuke!

 _“My_ partner, though,” Ino continues, and she gets her stupid better-than-you Ino-smirk on her face, “is _literally_ world-famous. Name is already in the history books and everything. Way more successful than your partner, but _nice_ and _humble_ about it. Basically the best person I’ve ever met.”

Sakura’s shoulders slump.

“Buut,” Ino sighs, running a hand through her. “I think your partner is just a _tad_ hotter, plus mine is an awful cook. So I’d say we tied.”

Sakura purses her lips. “That doesn’t _sound_ even,” she says. 

“Trust me,” Ino says, but her Ino-smirk is still in place. “My partner is a genius, but still nearly burnt down the house making katsudon.”

Katsudon is Ino’s favorite guilty-pleasure meal for bad days. Sakura finds herself glad Ino’s partner at least tried to make it, even if Ino is a _pig._

They lapse into silence for a bit, and Ino seems perfectly happy just to watch Sakura sit there. It reminds Sakura of being in kunoichi class together, happy to just be next to each other while they work. She searches this Ino’s face for signs of _her_ Ino. There’s a little dent in Ino’s temple that make-up can’t quite cover, from an acne scar that emotionally devastated her, and there’s a faded scar peeking out from sleeve from a training accident that landed her in the hospital for a whole day. Ino’s nose still has that cute dip in the tip that Sakura was always jealous of, and she’s still letting her bangs fall over one eye even though her eyes are gorgeous. 

“Can I do your hair too?” Sakura suddenly asks. 

Ino is delighted to let her. 

Sakura doesn’t remember how to do a fishtail, but she does remember a wild six-piece braid. Ino definitely has thick enough hair for it. 

Ino’s hair is so long it’s awkward to work with, and Ino giggles and teases Sakura as she helps Sakura manage the six pieces. 

“You know, Sakura,” Ino says once enough of the braid is finished that Sakura can keep the rest in her lap as she works. “You don’t _have_ to wait until one of us wins the rivalry to be friends again.”

Sakura thinks a long time about her answer before replies. 

“You said I’m like a flower,” Sakura says, carefully weaving pieces of Ino’s hair together. “Well, a flower can’t bloom in someone’s shadow.”

Ino makes a sad noise in the back of her throat, then pulls away from Sakura.

“Hey--!” Sakura starts, because she worked hard on that braid, and she was almost finished! 

Ino twists her body around, kicking her legs over the bathtub’s wall so that she’s knee-to-knee with Sakura. She leans forward, putting both hands on Sakura’s shoulders.

“You were _never_ in my shadow,” Ino says, very firmly, and it feels like Sakura is seven again and Ino is pressing cosmos flowers into her hands. “Anyone who thought it was like that can fuck off.”

Sakura feels her cheeks go pink. She’s never heard Ino say the F-word before. 

“Neither of us-- you or past-me-- are finished blooming,” Ino concludes, and she says it like it’s the obvious truth. “And trust me, Sakura, you’re going to make one _hell_ of a flower.”

Sakura, weirdly, feels like she’s on the brink of tears.

Then she falls on her butt into the soft grass of Training Ground Twelve. 

“SAKURA-CHAN!” Naruto screams, directly in her face. “You’re back!”

“Naruto, you idiot!” Sakura screams back on instinct. 

Naruto goes to hug her, and Sakura shoves him off. Kakashi and Sasuke are both hovering over her, oddly worried, and Kakashi grabs the back of Naruto’s jacket to stop him from trying to grab her again. 

“So the boys said they disappeared you into a forbidden jutsu,” Kakashi says dully. 

“Um,” says Sakura.

“We were so worried, you know!” Naruto yells, and Sakura steals a look at Sasuke. He does look a little worried, but it doesn’t send a thrill through her like she thought it would. 

She wonders if _Ino_ would be worried, if Sakura suddenly disappeared, and that _does_ send a thrill through her. 

“Calm down, Naruto,” Kakashi is saying. “I’m debating how painfully I can punish you three without getting in trouble.”

Naruto squawks, and Sasuke says, “Sakura and I didn’t even _do_ anything.”

Kakashi postures for a few minutes about weird ways to torture them, but Sakura can tell he’s eyeing her up and down. For injuries, probably, or to see if she’s an imposter. 

He takes them to the Hokage instead of tying raw steaks to them and setting them loose in the Inuzuka compound. While they’re walking over, Naruto compliments Sakura’s pretty braid. 

“Thanks,” Sakura replies. “A friend did it.”

xXx

Sakura comes home from her hospital shift to find her wife giddy with excitement. Her hair is tied off in a half-done six piece braid. 

“Forehead!” Ino cries when Sakura is inside. She pounces on her before Sakura even gets her shoes off. “Guess what happened!”

Sakura runs a hand over Ino’s hair in interest. 

“Did you meet mini-me?” she asks curiously.

“You were sooo cute,” Ino confirms, moving aside so Sakura can step out of the genkan and peel off her outer layers of clothes. “I wish I’d thought to get a photo.”

Sakura hums in interest, collapsing onto their couch. Ino practically falls on top of her. 

“You had an instant crush on me,” Ino purrs, nuzzling up to Sakura. “How _embarrassing,_ Forehead.”

Sakura laughs and elbows Ino in the side gently. “Was I really that embarrassing?” Sakura asks. “I don’t remember being that bad…”

“You couldn’t take your eyes off my tits,” Ino says proudly. 

Sakura laughs again, but buries her face in her hands. That _is_ sort of embarrassing. 

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Ino says, catching a piece of Sakura’s shoulder-length hair and twirling it around a finger. “They _are_ pretty great tits. But it makes me wonder, Forehead, how you survived training under Tsunade-sama?”

They tease each other a few minutes more before Ino picks herself up to go back to making dinner. She tells the rest of the story while Sakura-- banned from any heating element-- chops vegetables, gushing over how adorable past Sakura was. 

“Wait,” Sakura suddenly interrupts, once the food is ready and they’ve sat down to eat. “Did you tell past-me that you’re hotter than me?”

Ino blinks back at Sakura innocently, and Sakura rolls her eyes. 

“You’re doing the dishes, then,” Sakura decides.

“What if instead I…” Ino says, arching her back to ridiculous levels and tugging down the zipper at the front of her shirt. “Since you like them so much--”

“INO-PIG!”


End file.
